


Creases and folds

by limin



Category: Brooklyn Nine-Nine (TV)
Genre: Angst with a Happy Ending, Character Study, Fluff and Angst, M/M, Origami, Witness Protection
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-16
Updated: 2020-06-16
Packaged: 2021-03-04 01:54:46
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,318
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24745663
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/limin/pseuds/limin
Summary: It starts with a small paper boat and a hat for Martin. Then come cicadas, mantises and eventually mammals, dogs and elks, carefully folded from spare papers in the middle of boring lessons and stressful nights.For Raymond it’s not an orchestra or polypolyhedras. It’s orchids and cranes, though Kevin supposes the latter is more for himself.
Relationships: Kevin Cozner & Amy Santiago, Kevin Cozner/Ray Holt
Comments: 14
Kudos: 54





	Creases and folds

**Author's Note:**

> Hey, remember that one throwaway detail when Raymond says Kevin folded him a crane? No? Well I’m here to remind you with this >7k character study fic, you’re welcome. 
> 
> Minimum editing, this is straight sleep deprivation! I had fun writing this, and I hope you’ll have fun reading this :D

“This is littering. You do know this, right?” Kevin asks, looking down at the water puddle.

Martin shrugs, seemingly uncaring but there’s an excited glint in his brother’s eyes that says otherwise. His grip on the paper boat that Kevin has folded this morning in kindergarten also adds to that observation.

Honestly, he doesn’t know why Martin is so happy about this little art and craft activity that he was forced to do in class. Happy enough to drag him out of the house to find a puddle to “sail” this thing.

“We’re picking it up later, it’s fine,” Martin waves him off, crouching down to look at the small body of water instead. 

Does Martin realise that the paper boat is paper yet?

“There’s no we here,” Kevin says. But he pulls out his little notebook and, with great emotional distress, carefully detaches three blank pages. “I’m teaching you to make your own boat, come on.”

“Really?” 

His brother’s eagerness at this moment strongly reminds Kevin of their neighbor’s dog. Kevin hands him a paper as his answer, before going through the steps that his teacher had gone through this morning. It’s merely a few simple folds anyway, and within minutes two more boats join his original one. 

He folds the last paper into a small hat and places it on Martin. “Captain Cozner has a nice ring to it, don’t you think?”

Kevin has said it sarcastically, because they are still children playing with paper boats in front of a puddle. He’s months away from his sixth birthday, Martin turned four last week, there’s no captain and first mate here.

Martin nods with tears in his eyes. Good heavens, was that too mean? Mother’s always amused by his bite, and he even managed to make Father smirk once, a memory that he will cherish for the rest of his life. But Martin is different, and with both of their extra classes, Kevin has not gotten to spend enough time with him to know what makes him happy yet. 

His parents are so much easier to please, he thinks privately. “Martin?”

“It does,” Martin says, clearly has not picked up on the sarcasm. Ah, happy tears then, not that Kevin understands why. Again, there’s not enough data to guess why his brother is emotional over this, of all things.

* * *

Folding paper is not an activity Kevin thinks he would enjoy. After all, why waste a perfectly good, blank paper on making childish shapes when it can be used to write, draw and take notes on?

But there’s something calming about making creases and folds, following the instructions from a basic origami book, courtesy of Martin, and finishing his first crane with flapping wings. It’s a small crane that stands comfortably in the palm of his hand, and Kevin smiles.

It isn’t the perfect crane: its wings are horribly unbalanced and Kevin’s sure he can get everything to be more symmetrical overall but there’s a sense of pride deep down anyway.

Kevin carefully put it to the side, making sure it’s standing up properly before retrieving another piece of paper.

A mouse, a fish and a swan join the crane shortly.

* * *

Insects and bugs, Kevin has learned, are a big part in origami due to their anatomy and therefore, how hard it is to fold. It was considered an impossibility, getting the paper into figures with bodies and skinny appendages until mathematics got involved.

It’s a bit ironic that he’s currently ignoring the math teacher to fold a cicada with wings and legs then. But numbers have never been his forte, surprisingly enough. Kevin would have guessed that math would be a favourite subject, with how clean cut and logical it is.

English literature takes that spot instead, because with every piece of work comes a personal interpretation that’s different every time. He can read Achilles and Patroclus as lovers while others may see it as a strong platonic friendship, and that is fine.

He learns not to vocalise the thought, or at least, keeping it to himself the same way he keeps a cicada folded in his pocket. Hearing the snickering of his classmates when his English teacher brings up the point is enough for Kevin to make an educated guess about their stands on homosexuality.

Instead he takes out a piece of paper, and starts on the base for a cicada of Yoshizawa’s design.

Its wings are also a personal take, judgement fold as the book calls.

* * *

University’s stressful, especially when he’s pulling all-nighters to complete essays after essays. Reading doesn’t count as a stress relief anymore, and why read a book outside of the syllabus when he can spend the precious time learning and finishing his work and worrying over his future plan and career?

One night, after his third cup of coffee and his fifth attempt at starting the paragraph before crossing the words out, Kevin tears the offending page out. It’s not a waste, not when this particular page is mostly crossed out words and horrible handwriting and he almost crumbles it into a ball and throws it in the trash where it belongs.

Almost.

It has been some time since he has folded anything. Muscle memory doesn’t fail him though, and so Kevin creases the paper, flips it over and repeats the same motion again, lining up the edges and smoothes the sides together.

The finished product is not what Kevin would consider good, but it is a praying mantis that shakes in his hands.

No, that’s just his own hands shaking. 

Kevin chuckles, before laughing harder at his predicament. The essay’s still unfinished, the caffein is really affecting him now and he just wasted an hour or so on origami. But his head is certainly clearer, not so crowded by Plato anymore. 

He doesn’t throw the praying mantis away. Its paper eyes stare at him throughout the rest of the night, and when he puts the last sentence down to end the conclusion, the praying claws seem almost applauding instead.

If his desk is filled with more paper creations, then so what? It’s a good hobby, it keeps his hands busy and his head off of school, and the sense of accomplishment at finishing a model is a nice bonus.

* * *

Origami slowly ingrained itself in Kevin’s daily routine, between getting his master’s degree and balancing social life. When the words get too jumbled together into an indecipherable mess, he takes a piece of paper and makes a dog. 

On reflection, he owes his first kiss to the little origami dog actually. It is a public library, and while Kevin isn’t embarrassed by this particular hobby and is ready to defend it, he isn’t expecting awed stares.

Classic texts are forgotten in favour of teaching his classmate, Dan, how to fold a simple vulture. There's a lingering touch that lasts longer than needed, and a question leads to a date and a fleeting kiss behind the shelves, away from prying eyes.

Dan’s not anything special beside being Kevin’s first experience with the same sex, but he keeps the paper dog in his wallet. Unnecessarily sentimental of him, because Kevin’s sure Dan’s vulture has ended up in the trash but in his defence, it is not that good of a fold, not when he was rather flustered.

* * *

Relationships, both the platonic and romantic kind, come and go as Kevin finds his footing in life. Teaching in Columbia should come as a surprise, but he doesn’t mind the job. Knowledge has to be passed on somehow, and the salary and reputation of Columbia university itself is a nice bonus.

Kevin settles in his new office with ease, not changing much beside clearing out a small space in his desk. He keeps some of the smaller folds there, most folded when he needs a break from marking papers, and there are a lot of papers to be marked. They don’t talk about this part of being a teacher enough, Kevin thinks as he shapes a piece of paper into a goldfish.

A knock on the door breaks his concentration and he puts down the half-finished paper. “Come in.”

“Professor Cozner,” a student, Phillip, greets. “I hope I’m not disturbing anything.”

“Not to worry, I was just grading papers,” he doesn’t lie. He was, before stopping to work on the fish, but Phillip doesn’t need to know that now, do they? “You need to pay more attention to your punctuation, for example.”

“I’m sorry?”

“As you should.” Kevin gestures to the empty chair. “Do sit down.”

Phillip hastily does, though Kevin would not call that action sitting. More like bouncing in the chair. 

“What can I help you with?”

“Uh,” Phillip hums, diverting their eyes. The nervousness is clear, and Kevin sighs softly. “I-“

He stays silent, waits as Phillip gathers their words. Looking directly at them is giving him second hand nervousness though, and it isn’t like they’re holding any eye contact so Kevin looks away too.

The unfinished goldfish lays there on the table, and his hands itch to finish it. Completion principle’s kicking in again, how unfortunate.

“Is that Lang’s design?” 

Kevin blinks at the sudden question, flickering his gaze up to look at Phillip again. And while he doubts they are here to talk origami, he answers anyway. “Yes. Opus 716.”

“Ah,” Phillip says.

“I assume you’re familiar with this design?” Kevin asks, and Phillip slowly nods. “Do you want to give this a go?”

“I don’t want to intrude-“

“I would not have asked if I didn’t mean it.” He holds the goldfish out, and after 10 seconds, Phillips hesitantly takes it.

The talk goes smoothly after that, and when Phillip stands up with the intention to return the Taiwan goldfish Kevin waves it away. “You finished it, keep it,” he says simply.

Kevin fully blames this meeting on his new habit of giving students origami, but he can’t deny that it does work. The sudden influx of students speaking up about what they’re struggling with correlate somehow, but he’s too tired with marking to give the thought much care.

* * *

Meeting Raymond, and then later, dating Raymond, is an experience. One that Kevin’s glad he got to go through, and he hopes he can keep going through in the foreseeable future.

For their one year anniversary, Kevin folds orchids. While he would have preferred making columbines or roses, orchids are Raymond’s favourite. Angraecum sesquipedale, or Darwin’s orchid in particular.

Raymond doesn’t know about this particular interest of his, Kevin realises after he finishes the first flower. He has smaller models around his apartment, a whole orchestra on one of the shelves and multiple Platonic solids, but he never mentioned origami in conversation.

In the end he takes a new piece of paper and starts on the second orchid.

If Raymond doesn’t appreciate the hours Kevin’s putting into folding orchids then he can get out. It’s time that he can spend doing more productive activities, and if he might end up single then at least he has an amazing bouquet of orchids to display, one that requires less care than the roses.

He loses himself in the motion easily. There’s comfort in origami, letting the steps sweep him away from thinking and instead just following the predetermined design, following the folds and creases he has made. By the end of the designated time Kevin gives himself, his hands ache and four orchids lay on the table.

Raymond better like this, Kevin thinks.

* * *

“This is Angraecum sesquipedale,” Raymond says, inspecting the finished product that clocks out at a total of 23 hours. “In paper form.”

“Origami, yes,” Kevin corrects. “I hope you like it.”

“Did you make this yourself?”

He resists the urge to roll his eyes. Kevin doesn’t know if he should be offended that Raymond thinks he would just buy these off the street as an anniversary gift, but stifles the sigh nonetheless. “Yes.”

Raymond blinks slowly, surprised. But not the bad kind, at least Kevin doesn’t think so, and that’s good. “I didn’t know you do origami.”

“It’s a hobby I pick up along the way.”

“It looks very accurate,” Raymond says after a beat of silence as he turns the paper bouquet around, inspecting it the way Kevin has seen him inspect works of art. Careful, meticulous, not missing a single detail. “Thank you.”

His shoulders relax, though Kevin doesn’t even realise he was this tense in the first place. “You’re welcome.”

Another beat of silence, with Kevin looking at Raymond and Raymond looking at the orchids, holding it gently like he’s holding fragile glass. He didn’t predict his gift would affect Raymond to this degree, for Raymond’s hands to start shaking and Kevin has to take the bouquet back and put it to the side lest the tears ruin it.

“Thank you,” Raymond says again, his voice heavy. This time Kevin likes to think he knows why.

* * *

Raymond asks Kevin to teach him origami, and he retrieves the same book that Martin has given him years ago. It has been some time since Kevin has even held the old thing, but now he finds that he can still remember the content on every page to the T.

It’s nostalgic, doing these simple folds again. He has used the bird base so many times of course, but this time instead of unwrapping the paper he finishes the crane.

It still doesn’t look perfect the way Kevin wants, but it will serve its purpose as a demonstration for Raymond.

Raymond, who is terrible at origami, Kevin finds. That certainly comes as a surprise, he thinks Raymond would have taken to origami like a duck to water. But looking at what’s supposed to be a crane, it’s clear that he’s hopeless.

He tries to get Raymond to fold a frog next, and another crumble ball of paper lays next to Kevin’s jumping frog. 

Raymond sulks for the rest of the night, Kevin’s amused and the crane and frog find their homes next to his orchestra. Raymond would love the bassist, Kevin muses, but perhaps introduction can wait until tomorrow when Raymond doesn’t want to crumble anything paper in sight.

And if the crane he folds suddenly disappears with Raymond when the morning comes then Kevin doesn’t say anything about it.

(He doesn’t say anything to Raymond on the same Wednesday years later either. The bedroom is cold despite him being under the blanket, and he even allows Cheddar to jump up and sleep next to him.

Peralta’s a dunce, but without him and Linetti… Kevin wonders if Raymond will ever tell him, wonders what other secret Raymond has kept from him, and gets out of bed.

Andrey Ermakov’s mantis shrimp only has 104 steps, but it takes him two nights to finish folding. One alone with Cheddar as company, one when talking with Raymond.)

* * *

France’s a welcoming change of air, and Kevin quickly falls into a new routine of teaching at the Sorbonne university.

Good heavens, he’s teaching at Sorbonne. This is like a dream come true, and Kevin smiles after the end of one of his many lectures here. The students are excellent, responsive and teaching has never been such a breeze.

While he loves Columbia like a second home, Sorbonne excels.

When he’s not teaching he’s walking around Paris, reacquainting himself with the street and culture. The last time he was in France was years ago with his family, following his parents around and keeping an eye on Martin all the while improving his French.

Now he’s alone, free to do what he wants. Free to spend however long he likes at museums and exhibitions, free to actually go to museums and exhibitions that don’t coincide with Father’s interest in the first place. The endless possibilities are exhilarating.

It’s almost perfect. There’s something missing, or rather, someone missing. But Kevin understands that Raymond has his job, and his husband couldn’t drop everything to go with Kevin to Paris, as unfortunate as it is.

Being lovesick in France, what a cliché. Or perhaps he’s avoiding cliché, holding nobody’s hand along the Champs-Élysées.

At least origami follows him to Paris, in the form of an exhibition at the Carrousel du Louvre. Kevin clears his schedule for the night, goes to the exhibition with giddiness at seeing a master at work, and misses 4 calls from Raymond.

He sees the origami next to framed creases patterns, a bird perched on its own creases and doesn’t see the worried text. A more realistic crane flies above the traditional, classic fold in particular catches his attention, and Kevin stands there appreciating the details in the wings.

When it’s time for Robert Lang to give his presentation, people around him put their phones on silent and he finds that he has forgotten his own. Before Kevin can worry further, Robert starts talking and everything else in the world is forgotten.

So Kevin sits back and listens, enamoured and hanging on every word. It’s like he’s back in university again, in a lecture hall trying to remember everything the professor is saying. The image of the praying mantis, sadly lost when he moved, flashes in his head and he makes a note to look for an actual mantis origami around the exhibition later.

The talk ends far earlier than Kevin would have liked, and before he follows the crowd in dispersing or to take in the rest of the room, Robert is still standing there, busy creasing a piece of square paper.

Kevin takes a deep breath, forcing the nervousness away and strikes a conversation with Robert who’s folding what could be a dinosaur or a tarantula. His hands are crossing back and forth over the sheet with quick, meticulous movements and the sheet of paper crumpled before opening up to a tiny violinist.

In the end he walks out with said violinist in hand, and Kevin carefully pulls on the head and watches as the hand and bow respond to the movement, the origami playing an unknown melody. He likes to think maybe it’s playing Shostakovich, for no particular reason. It just seems fitting, somehow.

* * *

They fight. Kevin wants to tear his hair out with frustration, but he folds a simple Gallic rooster instead.

He intentionally doesn’t answer phone calls after that, and while Kevin knows it’s childish of him, he likes to think it’s him avoiding another spat over the phone about something insignificant that he couldn’t care less about after.

* * *

Raymond postpones his flight.

Kevin would say playing the heartbroken in Paris has lost its fun, but there was never any fun in the first place. The news gives him contradicting thoughts, happiness that he won’t have to face Raymond head on, sadness that he won’t see Raymond, anger at that spat at Raymond and then deep down, pity at himself.

He takes his time with his glass of wine, looking out to Paris from the balcony of his apartment, fidgets with his gold band that has been there for so long that when he takes it off he can feel a lost weight.

He folds a corgi, Cheddar, and places the ring on his head. While it’s no actual guard dog and nor is Cheddar, the origami can keep the ring until Kevin’s ready to put it on again.

* * *

Raymond is flying to France, to Kevin.

Kevin lets himself swear in both English and French, rereads the emails with the image of the new plane ticket attached, then swears again. 

A week with Raymond in Paris was a dream vacation, maybe still is because Kevin has so much to show Raymond but now it’s the sword of Damocles hanging above his head. At least when it’s a fight over the phone there’s something for Kevin to hide behind, whether that be the screen or the distance.

What if they fight in Paris? What if Paris is the end?

His ring catches the sunlight, shining bright and Kevin gulps. Here goes nothing, he supposes, and prepares an outfit for tomorrow when he has to go to the airport.

* * *

They talk. Not at the airport, obviously, it’s too crowded and loud and not in the taxi on the way back to Kevin’s place either.

He knows Raymond notices him not wearing the ring. It isn’t hard to miss the searing gaze Raymond’s directing at him, and Kevin fights to keep still, to not fidget under the pressure.

They talk when Kevin closes the door behind him, locking it methodically and then just standing there, not turning back to look at Raymond. It’s a cowardly move.

“I’m sorry,” Raymond starts the conversation. “For blowing up on you.”

He would usually reply with something comforting, but right now Kevin has to bite his tongue to not make a sarcastic reply. Instead he takes a deep breath, in and out.

“I was just worried,” Raymond continues in light of his silence. “Worried that you would find someone better in Paris. It’s irrational of me. But when you didn’t pick up the phone, I assumed the worst.”

“Better?”

“And I acted out, like a child. And for that I’m sorry.”

“Raymond, better?” He asks again, firmer and sharper this time. Even when he’s not looking directly at Raymond, he can see the flinch. Raymond, who’s brave and fearless, who has faced criminals, flinches at his change of tone. Isn’t that a thought.

“Better,” Raymond confirms. “I’m just…”

He hears the unsaid words, echoing what some of his colleagues at Columbia have said. Kevin sighs, turns back and finally faces Raymond. 

Months apart doesn’t change Raymond as much as the last few weeks have. He’s more tired, evidently by a slight hunch in his stance and were Kevin any other man he would have missed it. He’s not.

“You must have been tired after the flight,” Kevin says. “Get some rest, and we can talk more when you can formulate a logical thought.”

It’s a sad attempt at deflection. Kevin has always been a coward.

* * *

He doesn’t sleep that night.

A bear cub, Shuki Kato’s design, joins the rooster, the violinist and the corgi.

* * *

“Good morning,” Kevin says at the sound of footsteps approaching. He doesn’t look up from the newspaper, and Raymond doesn’t comment on it.

“Morning, Kevin.”

They sit and have breakfast in silence. It’s miserable, but Kevin doesn’t let the emotion show. “I hope your sleep was enjoyable.”

Raymond merely hums at his words, and it’s clear that it wasn’t. The “without you” goes unsaid in his answer.

This is beyond awkward, Kevin thinks. And he has had his fair share of experience in awkwardness, such is unavoidable when teaching in university, and this is worse. Which is saying a lot.

He closes the paper, stands up and walks to the door. It’s colder today, and usually Raymond would be the one informing him of the temperature every morning but whatever. He throws on his coat, ignoring Raymond’s stare, and flees.

That’s what Kevin’s doing, isn’t it? Fleeing the scene instead of staying there and talking everything out. The irony in Raymond’s words and worry of Kevin finding someone better as if he isn’t the one who deserves better is not lost on Kevin, and he laughs to, no, at himself. 

He’s a mess, and an aimless walk around Paris doesn’t help the spiralling thoughts. But walking back means facing Raymond, and that is comparably worse than being alone. But walking back and dealing with it like a mature partner is what he should do, after all, Kevin’s not six and playing with boats in puddles anymore. 

He takes the long way back home, back to Raymond.

* * *

They actually talk this time, but not immediately. Kevin unlocks the door, not having any real expectations in his head. He did storm off and leave Raymond alone, it wouldn’t be a surprise that Raymond has decided a walk would do him good too.

He doesn’t see Raymond. He sees a crane, clumsily folded on the table next to the newspaper that’s obviously for him. Despite everything, Kevin’s heart melts.

Raymond’s skill with origami has improved somewhat since Kevin tried to teach him years ago, because this time the crane is recognisable as a crane. He gives the tail a pull, and the wings don’t move.

There are words on the wings though, or at least a wing.

“I’m sorry,” it reads, and Kevin instantly feels guilty for how he has been acting. His behaviour has not been the best, has it?

“I’m sorry too,” he says when Raymond walks in the room with his hands and face wet, his eyes red like he has been crying. He still looks beautiful, Kevin thinks.

* * *

They actually talk this time.

It doesn’t get better instantly, but there’s progress.

The rest of the week is pleasant, and without a doubt, will be the highlight for this Paris trip. Sure, the Sorbonne is brilliant, the museums are endless and the origami exhibition’s mesmerising but nothing can compare to his Raymond.

His shelves have various books on display, but there’s also a Gallic rooster, a bear cub, a violinist, the badly folded but at the same time, perfect crane with Raymond’s writing and a corgi free from his guard duty.

Raymond really doesn’t have to slip the ring back so gently, but he does, and the promise of an honest to god wedding replays in his head.

Maybe when he gets back. The time can’t go by any faster.

* * *

“Witness protection?”

Detective Santiago nods mutely, near tears and Kevin clears his throat. Sergeant Jeffords takes over the explanation, not much about the why (civilians can only know so much) but more on the how, the what’s next.

What’s next without his husband, or lack thereof, Kevin doesn’t have a husband anymore, is rather simple.

Continue living his life like nothing has happened. Go home and rest, wake up, go to work at Columbia, ignore the fact that Raymond’s alone and Kevin can’t reach out to him, keep up a smile, be normal. Nothing has happened, nothing has changed.

Everything has changed. His world has turned upside down, and there’s nothing he can do about it beside following along the new rule.

For his own safety, Detective Santiago adds, winces and bites her lips to keep silence again.

She seems more shaken up, and he remembers it’s not Raymond, it’s Raymond and Peralta. Kevin wonders if he’s looking any better than her right now.

Hopefully yes, because if not then he’s already doing a horrible job at living a normal life. And then all of this would be for naught.

Kevin sighs tiredly, not just from the flight. Then he gives Santiago an open invitation to join him for dinner at some point, and politely doesn’t bring up her tears.

* * *

Kevin folds cranes as opposed to other complicated folds that take hours with hundreds of steps. There’s no particular reason as to why he has chosen crane, though Raymond’s attempt at the same figure might have some impact.

He finishes the first crane, puts it down on the table, gets a new piece of paper and starts again. And again, and again.

Usually he would be listening to oboe music with Raymond right now. Now he’s folding cranes in silence and hoping that Raymond’s safe and sound.

Myths and lores interest him, but Kevin doesn’t believe in them. That doesn’t explain why he’s keeping track of the cranes, counting down from 1000 while repeating his wish in his head. 

985, 984, 983.

Anyone who folds a thousand origami cranes will be granted a wish by the gods. He’s not big on religions either, but he keeps folding anyway, keeping his hands busy lest he does something worse.

982, 981, 980.

* * *

Santiago joins him on a Friday night, breathing heavily at his doorstep like she has run here. She’s holding a bottle of wine, not the dreaded wine drink, an actual bottle but Kevin doesn’t concern himself with labels right now. He’s more focused on the bags under Santiago’s, Amy’s eyes and her tired demeanour and rushes her inside.

“I’m sorry if I’m late, something happened at the end of my shift and wait, right, no shop talk, I’m sorry-“

She’s so much like Peralta right now, but Kevin doesn’t voice the thought aloud. “It’s fine. Make yourself at home, and I can pour us some of this Sangiovese pét-nat.”

Amy nods sharply, and he casts her a last glance before moving back to the kitchen to retrieve the glasses. This, Kevin’s familiar with. 

Amy’s scanning the bookshelf when he walks back, placing the bottle and cups on the table with a soft clink, but not soft enough to escape Amy’s hearing. She jumps, turning back to look at him nervously like he has just caught her red-handed. It’s almost reminiscent of the party, minus the sneezing.

“You’re free to keep going,” he says, amused and takes a sip of the wine. “Like I said, make yourself at home.”

Amy lets out a squeal. She says something under her breath, though Kevin would prefer the phrase “Oh, mama” to never be uttered in his house again.

But she does return to her information gathering mission, and they trade words about art history and crosswords and binders, and Kevin relaxes despite everything.

Relax enough to take a piece of square paper and get started on another crane. 

964.

“What are you doing?”

963.

He hands Amy the newly finished crane, and tells her the story about the thousand cranes, and the less fortunate story of Sadako.

962.

“Teach me,” Amy says with a sudden level of determination in her voice that shouldn’t surprise Kevin as much as it has. He can see why Raymond likes her. 

961, a demonstration this time.

Kevin goes through the steps slowly, just like how he had taught Raymond.

960, Amy’s first crane. It’s crooked, not quite standing properly, and definitely better than his first.

958, him going through the motion slower and Amy matching every step.

956, 954, 952.

Kevin keeps the conversation going as he folds, Amy’s too caught up in making sure she’s doing it perfectly to respond with anything further than nods and hums but that’s fine.

They have each other, in the most unconventional way under very specific circumstances.

950.

* * *

It’s a weekly thing, and then a twice a week thing.

He doesn’t press Amy for any details regarding the investigation, they don’t talk about Florida and their respective partner, and she brings coloured papers with an excited glint in her eyes that reminded him of a time before.

It was an army of white cranes before. Now there’s blue and pink and yellow and so much more, a welcoming splash of colour on the blank canvas.

900.

Kevin holds his glass out for a cheer that Amy replies to accordingly when they finish the first one hundred , and a clink echoes through the room.

898\. 896. 894.

* * *

“Are you worried?” Amy asks, and Kevin looks up.

“Regarding what?” Amy doesn’t have to answer. Kevin sighs and finishes his current crane. “Of course I am. I worry every day.”

Amy’s hesitating, too careful with her words, probably overthinking, definitely crying. Kevin doesn’t say anything. He has never been good at comfort.

“How do you deal with it?” Amy finally asks, and he doesn’t bring up the sniffles and hiccups that interrupt her question twice. “It’s just, I can’t lose Jake, I can’t lose both of them. I asked Jake to move in before witsec, and god, what if I never get to discuss chores schedule with him? What if we aren’t even on the same page anymore? And I’m spiralling right now, oh my god-“

“Amy, you’re hyperventilating.”

“I know!”

“Do you want…sundae?”

“That would be nice. And Kevin?”

“Hmm?”

“Extra cherry, please?”

“Of course Amy.”

* * *

542\. 542. 542.

How does he get here, on the couch, hugging Amy while she cries?

And how come both Peralta and Amy have daddy issues, by which Kevin means how are they both seeing Raymond and him as father figures?

Is this because of the extra cherry? Oh, Kevin knows he shouldn’t have.

* * *

468\. 467. 466.

There’s something entertaining about watching a drunk Amy rant about art history. And something very entertaining about Amy getting too excited when he reveals any information about his hypothetical husband that he hypothetically has.

Kevin’s also very intoxicated. Crane 528th to crane 586th are in horrible condition, but Amy’s laughing so he’s sure he can worry about that later.

* * *

“We are never bringing this up again.”

“Ever.”

“No doubt.”

“Perfect.”

Amy nods at him and he nods back before regretting the motion. Hungover is a hassle. Thank god it’s a Saturday.

* * *

264\. 262. 260.

“We’re allowed to write a letter to them,” Amy announces. “The Marshall will read it aloud the next time she checks in.”

She tries to say it casually and fails miserably.

Kevin nods. “Have you thought about what you want to write?”

“Yes, and even better,” Amy pulls out an USB. “I have a list of everything I want to say, including what the squad wants to pass on, sorted in order of importance.”

“Very impressive. If you need more space, I’m sure I can spare a few sentences.”

“Really? I wouldn’t want to impose, you don’t have to- honestly, it’s not a long list.”

It’s the exact reaction he has predicted, and Kevin can’t help the chuckle. “It’s fine. Do you want to write a draft here? I can fetch you a pen if you want.”

“That would be great!” Amy smiles brightly at him. It’s almost blinding, and perhaps he doesn’t mind being friends with Amy. Perhaps.

“I will be right back then.”

259, the first draft with too many words crossed out, and too many that don’t even make the page.

258, a spelling mistake that Kevin points out when proofreading.

257, some ink spilled on the page, blotting out words that need to be said.

256, Amy presses her pen so hard that it rips the paper. The tail’s damaged.

255, Kevin’s stress-relief crane. 

255, Amy finishes what she considers the perfect one page letter for Peralta. The words are perfectly spaced to be legible but also not wasting any space. Efficient. Perfect.

254, Kevin’s own letter is much more simple, shorter in both word count and content. It’s designed to be so, so that when he folds it up into the crane the wings are blank. He takes the pen, and writes down “I love you.”

Raymond will understand.

* * *

127\. 126. 12- his personal phone rings, the caller ID showing Amy Santiago.

It’s a weird time for her to call, but he accepts it anyway.

“I wasn’t supposed to tell you this but we got a call from Captain Holt,” Amy says the moment he picks up, skipping all polite pleasantries, her words rushed. “He’s asking for us to go to Florida, regarding Figgs.”

“Oh.”

“We don’t know everything yet, but it sounds like Captain Holt and Jake have a plan. They promise to fill us in when we arrive.”

Kevin doubts the plan has much contributions from Peralta, even when his Raymond has high opinions on the detective. But Raymond is there, and he will be fine. Kevin wouldn’t permit otherwise.

“Are you already at the airport?”

“Yeah, about that, we’re taking Terry’s car. Road trip, yay.”

“You don’t sound very enthused,” he points out. “Both about the road trip and the actual trip itself.”

“I don’t know Kevin,” Amy sighs. He can picture her hand moving up and brushing through her hair, trying to stay in control. “It’s just, it has been a long time since I have seen Jake, you know?”

“You’ll do great. It will be very awkward at first, sure,” he shrugs. It’s like Paris all over again. “But if you love him, and Peralta loves you as much as you have said then you two will work it out fine.”

A beat of silence, and Kevin’s willing to let it continue for however long Amy needs. This is her needing whatever comfort he can offer, and Kevin can deal with his own thoughts later.

“Are you sure?”

“Yes.”

He hears a loud exhale. “Thanks Kevin. And if you have anything you want to say to Captain, I’m sure I can pass it along.”

“Keep an eye on him. God knows how much Florida has changed him, and I would prefer to have my husband back alive.” Amy winces. “Too soon?”

“Yeaaah.”

“Well, simply pass Raymond my regard and good luck to the team then. Again, you’ll do great.”

“Of course.” He hears Sergeant Jeffords’ voice in the background, calling for the team. There’s also the sound of the engine starting up, and Kevin shudders. It sounds horrible. “I gotta go now, but I’ll try to keep you up to date with everything, alright?”

“Go save your boyfriend and my husband, Detective Santiago.”

“Will do, Doctor Kevin Cozner.”

Amy ends the call, leaving him with a monotone beeping. And Kevin has enough awareness to set his phone down, walk up to his room, shut the door before his breathing picks up and his vision goes black around the edge. 

God damn it.

* * *

125\. 125. 125.

Kevin’s panicking. It’s not a panic attack, not yet, but it’s approaching there. Origami doesn’t help, not when he can barely focus on the paper, Cheddars is slightly helping with his pawing at Kevin’s leg, and everything else is making it worse.

He takes a shaky breath, in and out, trying to match the count in his head to no avail. How can he calm down when Raymond is out there, no doubt about to do something completely reckless that will put him in danger?

His husband is in danger, and Kevin is helpless. He has been helpless for the past six months, but right now the emotion is coming in waves, and having no intention to stop at any time soon.

In and out.

In. 

Out.

He can’t breath. 

Sitting here, alone, in this empty house that he can barely call home because home is with Raymond and Raymond is in Florida, which is over a thousand miles away and here Kevin is. A thousand miles, give or take, away from the man he loves.

Even when he’s quiet, when he’s trying to keep the gaping breaths down it still sounds too loud.

Kevin’s panicking in total safety when Raymond is out there, probably taking control of the situation. He has always been a naturally charismatic leader. The humourless irony makes him chuckles, and Cheddar whines.

He doesn’t know when Cheddar jumps up to his laps, licking at his hand and nuzzling himself closer to Kevin but it helps.

In and out.

He slowly releases his hand from a fist and shakingly pets Cheddar instead.

Raymond would not want Kevin to be like this, he thinks. Raymond already has so much to worry about, and maybe Kevin shouldn’t do this. 

In.

Out.

“Hey Mr. Cheddar,” he sighs hoarsely. His throat is dry, dryer than he remembers and he swallows heavily. “Sorry, I got you quite worked up, huh?”

Cheddar barks, looking up at him before licking his cheek. And then he brings his paw up, and if Cheddar were a human that would be a playful slap of sort.

Kevin chuckles, this time a bit more relaxed and a lot more tired. “I know. I apologise.”

Another bark, accompanied with Cheddar’s jumping up and down. “A walk, at this time? Are you sure?”

Cheddar, instead of giving a verbal answer, jumps off and runs out of the room, only to return minutes later with his leash in tow. He has always been a smart boy, Kevin thinks fondly.

He stands up, leashing Cheddar properly. He’s a mess, but this time the walk isn’t so aimless, not with Cheddar leading.

He kneels down at Cheddar’s favourite bench, remembering Raymond confessing to him about what happened during his little heart to heart talk with Amy and Peralta, and hopes that Raymond’s fine.

* * *

56.

Amy’s calling, and there’s a split second of hesitation where his thought turns to the worst possible possibility, and if he doesn’t answer then it wouldn’t be real, he can live in ignorance for a while longer but Kevin picks up at the second ring.

“Hey Kevin,” Amy greets him, her voice cheerful and that’s a good sign. “Raymond’s safe, and will be returning soon.”

The tension from the last 6 months melts away instantly, leaving him weightless and tired and happy. “Thank you for informing me. Can you pass Raymond the phone?”

“Right, about that,” Amy hums. “He’s in medical care right now, his leg is a bit...I don’t have all the details but Jake said it was not good. But I’m sure he’s exaggerating!”

Kevin blinks, before letting out a sigh. “Of course. Well, all that matters is that he’s alive. And Peralta is in good health too then?”

“Beside the fact that I shot him in the leg, yes.”

“I’m sure he deserves it.”

“Kevin!”

“My apology,” he says, not very apologetic. Not when that manages to make Amy laugh. “So, did you two work it out?”

“We’re getting back there I think,” Amy answers. “Still a lot to discuss, but I will save the presentation for when he recovers.”

“I would advise you to give it now when he’s still under bed rest.”

Amy giggles. “That isn’t such a bad idea. But yes, I just wanted to let you know as soon as possible that everything’s fine. Figgs’ arrested, situation under control. Raymond just has to deal with the paperwork before he can go back to you now.”

He takes a deep breath, in and out. “Thank you.”

“I’ll let you go now, I’m sure you’re busy- hope I’m not interrupting anything. God, I am interrupting something, aren’t I?”

“You’re not. And,” Kevin adds. “You can still come and visit anytime you want, yes?”

“O-Oh.”

“That’s a yes then. Good day Amy, I will see you soon.”

* * *

At this point it is pure muscle memory that is guiding his hands across the square paper, creasing it and following the steps until Kevin does the last inside reverse fold and is greeted with the thousandth crane.

The thousandth crane.

He lets out a breath that he doesn’t realise he was holding. 6 months and an unlikely friendship later, and here he is. The crane sits comfortably in his palm, its wings perfectly balance and spread out at a slightly upward angle, and he smiles.

The door clicks open, and he hears the distinct way Raymond opens and closes the door. He hears footsteps, uneven from the injury approaching, and Kevin puts down the crane.

“Evening Raymond,” Kevin says, standing up and holding his hand out. Raymond’s grip is still as firm as ever as they shake hands, though unlike other times, Kevin doesn’t let go after the up-down-up motion.

Instead, he pulls Raymond forward, and for the first time in a long time, kisses his husband. 

It’s him familiarising himself with Raymond’s lips again, and Kevin takes his time, committing every detail to mind. The world fades until all he knows is Raymond pressing closer to him, his hand fluttering, drawing lines onto his back, before fully embracing him with the intention of never letting go.

Kevin has absolutely no objection to that.

Raymond’s the one who breaks the kiss with his small, endearing chuckle against Kevin’s lips, pulling back but not away.

“Good evening, Kevin,” Raymond breathes out, dazed and actually here, holding Kevin and being held in return. “I have missed you.”

“The feeling’s mutual,” Kevin giggles. “Welcome home.”

Home, with Raymond here finally next to him, Cheddar sleeping upstairs and a thousand cranes scattered around.  
  
  


**Author's Note:**

> Origami is a fascinating topic to look into, and I highly recommend you doing that! Safe to assume that most of the origami design in here are a Robert Lang design unless stated otherwise.
> 
> P.s. My origami skill extends to crane and other simple folds, so ya know. Take everything with a grain of salt. 
> 
> P.p.s. I have never folded 1000 cranes in my life. However, do yourself a favour and look the story of Sadako up.
> 
> P.p.p.s. I am on tumblr [@onemilisec](https://onemilisec.tumblr.com/) ! Head on over, why dont you?


End file.
